


Bring Out the Beast In Me

by oddegg



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Kink, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: Puck always enjoys the aftermath of the nights when Kurt transforms. (All together now – ‘Bloodplay and Biting and Kink, oh my!’)
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	Bring Out the Beast In Me

The sky above is just starting to melt from black to dark to lighter blue when Puck wakes up; cold and stiff from where he’s been rolled up in a blanket in the bed of his truck, with his face slightly damp from dew.

He blinked up at the full, swollen moon hanging low over the treeline and at the last small patch of fast disappearing stars and for a second or two he can’t think what woke him up or why he was sleeping out in the first place.

Then he looked to his right and saw the whiskered muzzle and sandy fur of the cougar peering at him from over the sidewall of the truck bed. The large cat made another soft chuffing sound, followed by an oddly high pitched chirrup when he saw Puck was awake.

Puck grinned at him, and then stretched and said through a yawn “He-eey… Morning, Kurt. You about done climbing trees and chasing bunnies for another month?”

Kurt wrinkled his muzzle and let out a silent little huff of air. Puck always marvelled how much distain his boyfriend could show in this form. Kurt slid his eyes (still so blue, even now) to the neat pack settled in the corner behind the cab and made that light chuffing sound again. Puck knew what he wanted.

Didn’t mean he was going to give it to him though.

Puck let the blanket fall to his waist as he hoisted himself up to lean back on his arms and he stayed silent; kept his eyes on Kurt and let a mischievous smile slowly grow.

Those slanted blue eyes narrowed and Kurt’s lip curled up a little, showing the edges of his sharp teeth. He gave an aggravated, low-pitched hiss. Puck didn’t care. He wasn’t passing over the pack and he knew Kurt wasn’t going to jump into the truck bed to drag it out himself, even if it was a leap he could make easily in his panther form. This was just a game they played.

That didn’t mean Kurt wasn’t getting annoyed though and now he pulled his lips back more fully and let out a rumbling, warning growl. Puck just shrugged and said cheerfully “Come on, Kurt! There’s no point in you dragging your nice clothes all the way across the clearing, is there? Dude, there’s no-one here but us and I’ve seen it all before”

Kurt yowled and dropped down from his hind legs out of sight. Puck could still hear him though, grumbling and hissing by the tyres and when he leaned on the truck side and peered down he could see Kurt pacing back and forth in the darker shadow below.

Puck rested his chin on his arms and watched him quietly for a minute; eyes following the smooth play of powerful muscles under Kurt’s tawny fur, the hypnotic twitch of his long tail. Then he glanced back up at the sky and saw the way the lighter blue had taken over most of it, the golden light that had started spilling out from the east.

He said softly, “Sun’s coming up, babe…”

Kurt’s head lifted and those pointed ears with their tufts of fur flicked forward. He was still for a moment and then, with one last silent, lip-curled snarl over his shoulder at Puck, he stalked off toward the trees.

Puck watched him go till Kurt disappeared into the bushes and then he pushed himself up to get things ready. Spread the blanket he’d been wrapped in down and added a couple more to make a reasonably comfortable soft pad, shucked off his clothes and tossed them out of the way into the corner. Rescued the all-important tube of slick from his jacket pocket and laid it down within easy reach.

He was done by the time the time the sun came up over the trees and the clearing began to fill with gold instead of the pale, grey half-light of before. And he was already sitting down, cross-legged and tense, by the time the screaming started in the trees.

A high, horror-film, animal scream that came again and again, rising and falling. Then there was a coughing rasp and another cry, just the one – low and brief, and this time all too human.

Puck had his hands balled into fists against his knees, all the muscles in his back and shoulders gone tight and trembling with tension. He hated this part. Hated hearing Kurt in pain and not being able to do anything about it.

He’d offered before to at least wait closer to Kurt when he transformed but Kurt had flatly told him no. Said that he found it horrifying enough to go through himself and there was no way he’d let someone else watch it, especially someone he wanted to be able to touch him afterward.

Puck hadn’t pushed him on it, and he told himself it wasn’t because he was afraid to see it.

It was quiet now, the worst over, and the hesitant chatter of morning birdsong started up and grew as Puck slowly uncurled his hands and tried to smooth away the reddened, half-moon marks where his nails had bitten into his palms. Then he straightened up and looked over just in time to see Kurt step forward from out the trees and Puck’s breath caught.

His boyfriend always looked good. Whatever he was doing and whatever he was wearing, Kurt always looked amazing. But to Puck, he never looked quite as incredibly beautiful as he does when he’s like this, naked in the first light of the day.

Even from across the clearing Puck can see Kurt’s still got a bit of his cougar colorization. The front of his chest and his throat are his usual milky, smooth white but he’s still tawny colored and tanned looking on his side, legs and arms. Kurt starts walking over and Puck knows that by the time he reaches the truck most of the color will have faded and he’d only be able to see the difference if he was really close. But that’s ok – he intended to be very close indeed to Kurt real soon.

Because one of main reasons Puck likes to camp out and wait for Kurt on these full moon nights with change of clothes and stuff in the back of his truck is because of the hot sex they always have afterward.

(Puck is uncomfortably aware that he has, like, squishy-girly feelings for Kurt that he’d prefer to never ever talk about if possible and that he does have _other_ reasons for wanting to hang around and make sure Kurt’s safe and comfortable when he changes back but he tells himself that it’s mainly about the sex. Hey! It’s seriously hot, kinky sex, dude – don’t judge)

And Puck’s got a bubbling feeling of excitement building in his chest as he watches Kurt walk – or rather, _stalk_ over toward him; head lowered slightly, watching Puck intently, movements still smooth and liquid and _stealthy_ – because the Puck’s got _reasons_ for messing Kurt around every time and refusing to pass over his clothes and let him get changed in the bushes.

The first is because Kurt putting on clothes is just a waste of fucking time when Puck would just have to tear them straight off him and the second – and most important – is that the teasing gets Kurt riled up.

And a _riled up_ Kurt is a dominant Kurt and a dominant Kurt is a Kurt who’ll vault up and pounce on Puck as soon as he gets into the flatbed, snarling and knocking him over onto his back, and grab hold of Puck’s arms to hold him down and snap forward to bite at his neck, growling low in his throat as he does.

Not just his neck. No, Kurt holds him down and pulls back to stare down at Puck with bright blue eyes that have more of a feline angle than usual, and there are the lingering, faint shadow markings of his cat form showing on his face as he widens his lips to show his still sharp teeth in a warning hiss before lunging back forward to bite again. Bites to Puck’s collar bone, his shoulders, his rib cage. Moving on down to bite at the jut of Puck’s hip.

Any place where bone was close under the skin he had Kurt’s mouth and teeth on him; hard pressure and tiny little pinpricks of bright pain where Kurt’s canines broke through the skin as he gently gnawed.

It was amazing and overwhelming and it had Puck arching up against the sensation but Kurt was holding him down fast by his biceps. Kurt was so much stronger just now, after the change, and Puck knew he’d have fingertip bruises on his guns by the end of the day and he secretly loved it.

One last, firm bite right against the curve of his neck had Puck shuddering and laying still, and his compliance made Kurt gentler, slower.

Now he let go of Puck’s arms, trusting him to keep them away by the side where he placed them. And Puck did keep them there – trembling with the effort to do so, chest heaving. Because now? Now Kurt was going to use his _nails_.

They always take longer to go back to normal, Kurt’s nails. They stay sharp and claw-like for at least an hour after he transforms back. And they always feel _so fucking good_ when Kurt uses them on Puck like this. When he runs them down Puck’s torso lightly – light little scratches that barely even break the skin but just excite it, sensitize it so Puck can’t help making a keening noise in the back of his throat.

When Kurt oh-so-carefully hooks one of those nails through Puck’s nipple ring, and the clawed end of it grazes against the tight, stiff bud of flesh and draws a bead of blood free before he catches the metal firmly and he _pulls_.

And then… When Kurt stops being so careful…

When Kurt presses down harder and makes a deeper cut. One that draws enough blood to start trickling down his skin in a way that makes Puck gasp softly. When Kurt pauses for a small, breath-held moment and then slowly dips his head down and puts out his tongue and unhurriedly – _leisurely_ – starts lapping the blood up.

The tongue was another thing that took time to get back to ‘human’. Puck didn’t understand the biology behind it. He didn’t particularly care. All he knew was that for this time – this small, confined bubble of time that they had – he got to feel the rough, dragging rasps of Kurt’s tongue against the edges of his wounds. He got to have this little ragged flutter of hurt – the best, the most perfect kind of hurt – and he got to feel that cat-like tongue lick a beautiful ripple of fire down his side.

The cuts Kurt makes are always curved and curled; and now after so many months of doing this there are thin, near invisible swirling curlicue scars working their way down Puck’s sides, forming the beginning of some pattern of Kurt’s design that Puck has never asked about and Kurt has never volunteered to explain. They don’t need the reason.

Puck doesn’t need it. He just needs this. Kurt’s elusive, brittle sharpness getting etched into his skin in an undeniable way. Kurt’s mouth and tongue on him. Working their way down the wounds, the _engravings_ on his side. Kurt’s tongue on his side, his ribs, his stomach. Kurt hesitating oh-so-cruelly by his hip before he finally, _finally_ moves his mouth over and lets his lips close, almost artlessly, around Puck’s rigid, aching cock.

And it only takes a few moments – a few fleeting moments of Kurt’s mouth around him; the slight, sliding edge of those still-too-sharp canine teeth on the shaft and three or four cat-laps of that rough tongue against the unprotected head of Puck’s dick – before Puck is approaching the edge of ‘too much’ at 90mph and he has to reach his hands down and move Kurt away.

_Has_ to push Kurt away because as in-fucking-credible as it would be to blow his load down Kurt’s throat that’s not what Puck wants right now. Not what he’s been planning for.

So he pushes Kurt off and he sees the look of surprise on Kurt’s face as he does so and in that half-second of disbelief he manages to twist and flip them over so that Kurt is underneath him now, face down. So that Puck is sitting on top with his legs straddling Kurt’s; one hand in the middle of Kurt’s back, fighting to hold him prone as Puck reaches over for the slick he left laying there earlier.

And Puck really _does_ have to fight. Has to use all of his strength and weight to hold his boyfriend down as he scrabbles for the tube and snicks the cap open to spread lube on his fingers. Kurt’s got his head turned to the side and is baring his teeth at him now; snapping his jaw together and growling and hissing at Puck as he greases his fingers up and puts them down; bucking up against him as he places them against that puckered hole – those still vivid animal instincts telling him to fight.

But Puck knows how to deal with this now. He’s learned how to run his hand firmly down Kurt’s back till he curves up against the stroke and lets the fingers of Puck’s other hand in to work him open. He knows how to rub his thumb over the mane of fur that still runs down Kurt’s spine and how to lean down and sink his teeth _hard_ into the nape of Kurt’s neck and make him pliant and biddable.

And this – out of all of the parts of the ‘Shifter Kurt’ that stayed – this was the bit that Puck loved most.

The bit that allowed Kurt to relax and go boneless underneath him. The part of Kurt that made him duck his head down and purr and mewl while Puck was fingering him open and the part that made him yowl when Puck took his fingers away and lined himself up and damn near shoved his way inside.

And then Puck was arching over Kurt’s back with his palms resting either side and thrusting and snapping his hips inward as hard and as deep as he possibly could – fast, hard strokes that had Kurt writhing and bucking underneath him, scrabbling with his hands at the blanket they were on, his nails clawing and catching at the material.

Kurt’s always keyed up and near the edge after a change, and it doesn’t take more than a dozen thrusts before he’s coming; back bowing up, tightening up around Puck with his whole body trembling as he let out a high, keening roar. Puck squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his inner cheek, desperate not to come from the rippling clench of Kurt’s ass as Puck carried on fucking him through the orgasm.

He manages to hold off, and when Kurt relaxes under him – going boneless and dreamily peaceful all of a sudden – Puck lowers himself down till he’s draped over Kurt like a mantle and fucks him sweet and slow and gentle for several minutes; rocking into him shallowly and softly mouthing and licking over the teeth marks he’d left on the back of Kurt’s neck.

He does that till Kurt starts to squirm and move again, obviously getting hard once more as he was panting and beginning to let out little mewling cries as he switched between pushing back against Puck and rubbing himself against the blanket underneath him. And oh no – Puck’s not having that. That isn’t part of the plan.

So he pushes back up onto his knees, hauling Kurt’s hips up with an arm around the other boy’s waist. But he doesn’t let Kurt get his hands under him to hold himself up. No, Puck captures Kurt’s arms and forces them behind his back; holding those thin wrists together with one hand as he grabs onto Kurt’s hip and pulls him back sharply onto Puck’s dick with the other.

Kurt’s shoulders are taking his weight now and he’s got his face shoved into the blankets, muffling the rumbling groans he’s started to make. He can’t make much sound and there’s no friction against his cock like this and with Puck holding his arms behind him he can’t touch himself either.

Puck can touch him though, stroke his hand down Kurt’s spine and grip his hip again hard enough to leave bruises as he forces Kurt back against him hard. And Puck can make noise. There’s no wool blanket in his face gagging _him_.

So he can talk and when Kurt moans and wriggles his arms he can tell Kurt “Oh no, baby – you don’t get to touch yourself. You don’t get to come just yet!”

Kurt whined out something that might have been _‘please’_ – the first human sound he’s made since he changed, and Puck loves that he practically fucked it out of Kurt.

He pants out “Oh, you like that? You want more, you greedy little slut? You be good, baby. You be good and you let me fuck you like this” he gave a hard shove of his hips, feeling his own orgasm rushing up now “ _ohfuck_ – yeah… Hard and deep just... like… _ohsweetfuckinggod_ Kurt!!”

Puck bent over Kurt’s back, pulling him tight against him and gasping as he came, shoving in deep as he filled his boyfriend up. Kurt wasn’t close enough to join him though, and he barked out a “No! _please_ …” when Puck abruptly pulled out.

Puck still held onto Kurt’s wrists as he sat back on his heels. He was almost dizzy from his release and had to shake his head, dazed, before he could reach out with his free hand and stroke over Kurt’s ass – hold those smooth round cheeks apart and watch as a tiny bit of his come trickled out of that pink, puffy, abused-looking hole.

Kurt was still saying please. Over and over into the covers he was mashed into, just begging in one long, continuous stream that turned into sobbing moans of _‘yes, yes, yes!’_ as Puck leaned forward and slowly licked over Kurt’s ass. Licked up that dribble of come and then clamped his mouth over that puckered little opening and started eating Kurt out properly, licking around the edges and then pointing his tongue and fucking it into him like his cock had just done.

And he loved doing this. Loved marking Kurt up with his scent and his taste and loved licking up the mixed taste of himself and the cherry-flavoured lube he’d used out afterwards until he could get at the dark, musky taste of Kurt underlying it all.

Kurt wasn’t even saying ‘please’ anymore. He’d been reduced to a babble of keening, whining mewls. Inarticulate animal sounds that had no meaning but still made it obvious what Kurt wanted, what he needed.

And once he’d licked Kurt clean of every trace of his own come, Puck gave it to him – flipping him over suddenly and, without warning, shoved two fingers inside him at the same time as he wrapped his lips round Kurt’s cock and, plunging his head down, swallowed him down to the root.

That one suck was all it took. Kurt grabbed hold of his head and exploded into Puck’s mouth, coming down his throat in thick spurts and with a scream almost as high and animal as the one he gave when he was transforming.

* * *

It took them both quite a while to recover. Kurt on his back and Puck still down by Kurt’s legs, his head resting on Kurt’s stomach being rocked by the quick, panting breaths Kurt was taking – breaths that were getting deeper and slower as he calmed down and Puck closed his eyes and just let the sound of them lull him for a minute or two. He felt peaceful and happy like this, curled up around Kurt and warm and relaxed in the sun, with the sound of birds and the slight rustling of leaves in the summer breeze and that comforting, rumbling vibration against his cheek that was…

Puck started to laugh and rolled over to the side to look up at Kurt’s face. “Dude! Are you actually _purring_?”

The purrs stopped and Kurt pushed against Puck’s face, shoved him away further and grumbled “Idiot” in a tone that said he was trying to be annoyed but was still too fucked out to bother.

Puck carried on chuckling as he sat up and stretched out his arms, saying “We’d better get on back – go get some breakfast and let your dad know you’re ok so he doesn’t get his bear on and kill me”

Kurt yawned, pale pink tongue poking out briefly, and gave a stretch of his own. Then propped himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow at Puck. “So… Can I have the pack with my clothes now? Or did you want me to drive back into Lima buck naked?”

Well, _that_ was an idea for another time perhaps, but for now Puck just silently passed him the pack and then dragged his own jeans over and wriggled into them (no underwear, as usual) and shrugged his unbuttoned shirt on. He bent his face down as he shoved his feet into unlaced Converse and bit his lip to keep a straight face as he heard Kurt pause in the neat unpacking of his pile of clothes. He’d found Puck’s present then.

“Noah?”

He looked up to see Kurt watching him, eyebrow raised and a strip of leather dangling from one hand. Puck tried to make his expression as innocent as he could (which, yeah – was a losing battle to begin with but he did try) and smiled brightly as he replied “Yes?”

“Care to explain what this is and what it’s doing in my pile of clothes?”

Puck’s face betrayed him as he couldn’t help his lips twitching but his voice held steady as he said “That’s a kitty collar, baby. Don’t want anyone to think you’re a stray, do we?”

Kurt’s eyebrow hitched even higher toward his hairline and then he started coolly examining the collar. The studs, the sky-blue color of the leather that so perfectly matched Kurt’s eyes, the rectangular silver tag that had been stylishly carved with the words _‘Property of Puck’_. It had taken Puck two weeks to track down something suitable and cost him an extra $40 just for the engraved tag.

…And actually? Now that he thought about it, Puck had put a worrying amount of time and money into something he’d thought he meant purely as a silly joke.

He was starting to think he ought to say something or laugh it off when Kurt flashed his eyes back up at him and then dropped them shyly and murmured “Thank you, Noah…”

Puck’s jaw dropped. What? Kurt was _thanking_ him?!

That wasn’t what he thought would happen! Where was the bitchy, fierce boyfriend that Puck knew and …had secret squishy-girly feelings about?

But Kurt was still talking, in a soft tone that had _steel_ underneath it, and now he had a disarmingly sweet false smile as he said “It will go _so_ well with the outfit I’ve got planned for school on Monday! I bet everyone will just _love_ it…”

And Puck knows that’s meant to be a threat, a punishment for the attempted joke, but his heart starts pounding wildly at the thought of Kurt walking around school with a collar that proclaims to everybody who he belongs to and oh fuck – he thinks he just worked out why he put so much effort into this ‘joke’. Because Puck fucking _loves_ the idea of Kurt doing that!

If Puck was someone who talked about his feelings or even acknowledged having them in the first place he could just tell Kurt that. But he’s not, so the only thing he can do is say in a slightly choked voice “I’ve got football practice Monday. I’ll leave my shirt off after I change”

Kurt frowns, puzzled, at him for a second or two and then his eyes widen and his gaze flicks down to Puck’s chest and sides. The places where Kurt cut him.

He’s blushing when he meets Puck’s eyes again but he’s smiling as well; a genuine, pleased little smile that tells Puck Kurt’s understood what it was he was trying to say.

Because Puck’s got his own markings which say that he belongs to someone as well. And he’s got no problem with wearing them openly and letting the world see what they are to each other.

That he doesn’t want anything else but Kurt.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on livejournal as a present for Lezi https://puckurt.livejournal.com/401627.html?thread=7178459#t7178459


End file.
